The firmament of Tinsel TownIs strung with tungsten starsLot's of forty watt successesHe says, "Where's my own shining hour?"He's the well kept secret of the undergroundHe's in debt to the company storeBecause his only channeled aspirationWas getting back that girl he had beforeHe's got stacks and stacks of words that rhymeDescribing what it is to loseHe's got some just for laughs, he's got some for loveThat mainline to his bluesSome to shed a little lightOn you and on meSome to shed a little lightOn a human storyThe wars of pride and propertyThe rebel Irish and the promised land JewFighting behind his eyes and over seasWounded in action and no ceasefire in viewBrave reporters bring the battles homeBut tonight inside that boxJust more bang-bang ketchup color to himJust more Twentieth Century FoxAll because that ghostly girl comes hauntingJust out of reach outside his bedShe kicks the covers off of his sleepFor the clumsy things he saidShe commands his headShe tries his sanityShe demands his headTonight unknowinglyVaguely she floats and lacelikeBlown in like a curtain on the night windShe's nebulous and nakedHe wonders where she's beenHe grabs at the air because there's nothing thereHer evasiveness stings him nowWith long legs, long lonely legsBruised from banging into thingsOne day he was standing just outside her doorHe was carrying an armload of bright balloonsShe just laughedShe said she heard him knockingAnd she teased him for the moon"Is one the moon, dear clownTied to a string for me?"He tried but he could not get it downFor truth or mysteryHe tried but he could not get it downFor love or money